


A Wake-up Call and a Mean Ragout

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Con Artists, F/M, Fic, M/M, Multi, Post-Het, Pre-Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2011-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Peter, the gray areas just keep getting grayer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wake-up Call and a Mean Ragout

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to dragonfly for beta. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Spoilers up to 2.16.

"I'm telling you, Peter," said Sara, her voice high and brittle on the line, "if the police find one single shred of evidence, I'm having him arrested. No more parole, no more two-mile fucking radius."

"I'm sure you will," said Peter, straight-faced. "But they won't." God help him, he should not be finding this funny, but Neal had voluntarily returned the U-boat haul almost two months ago; compared with that, even grand larceny seemed petty. At Sara's muttered curse, Peter added, "We're talking about Neal. He doesn't leave loose ends."

"Caffrey," said Sara with audible loathing.

Peter swiveled his chair to look out at the office blocks across the street, bright in the Monday morning sunlight. "I take it things aren't going so well on the dating front."

"Are you kidding me? Do you know how humiliating it is to admit to your boss—an insurance company!—that the guy you've been seeing for over two months is not only a career criminal but also the lead suspect in your current case? It's a miracle I still have a job! The only place I want to see Caffrey now is behind bars."

"I'm sorry, Sara," said Peter, serious now. She sounded hurt as well as pissed, and there was nothing comical about that.

"Not your fault. I should have seen it coming, right? I mean, he's Neal Caffrey—what was I thinking?"

"You gave him the benefit of the doubt; there's no shame in that." Peter hoped there wasn't anyway, or he was going to be wearing sackcloth and ashes with the best of them.

"That's what I kept telling myself, but it sure feels like there is now." Sara's words were clipped.

Peter leaned back in his chair. "You want to come over for dinner tonight? No Neal, I promise, and El makes a mean ragout."

"No, I need some alone time." A woman spoke in the background, followed by Sara's muffled reply that she'd just be a minute. Then her voice became clear again. "Thanks, though."

"Any time. I mean that." Peter and El had only had Sara over for dinner the once, but they had encouraged both Neal and Sara to take the next step in their relationship. Peter couldn't help feeling guilty about that, now it was ending so badly.

As if she could read his mind, Sara said, "I meant it when I said it wasn't your fault. I'm a big girl, Peter. I've come back from worse."

The typical Caffrey catch-phrase hung in the air for a moment, and then Sara broke the silence with a bitter laugh. "Look, I've got to go. I'll let you know if the investigation turns up anything."

"I appreciate that."

Sara disconnected, and Peter listened to static for a moment, aware he hadn't offered to help her solve the case and find the culprit. He had no doubt Sara knew why he hadn't, that she recognized it for the display of loyalty to Neal that it was. Once upon a time, Peter would have pursued justice and the letter of the law, but since the Adler shooting and everything after—accusations of betrayal, hurt feelings and the hard painful road back to trust and partnership—Peter couldn't be party to incarcerating Neal again. If it happened, it happened, but Peter wasn't going to facilitate the matter in any way, shape or form.

All the same, he couldn't let Neal get away with grand larceny either. Peter turned to look through the internal glass wall, down to Neal's desk, where he was reading a case file, earphones in his ears, his hat perched on his in-tray. To the casual glance, he looked relaxed, almost bored, but he had a death-grip his coffee mug and he wasn't turning the pages of the file.

Peter went out to the railing, waited till Neal looked up—which only took a few seconds—and gave him the double-finger point.

Neal took off his headphones and dropped them on his desk, pushed back his chair and sauntered up the stairs into Peter's office. "What's up?"

"Shut the door," said Peter, sitting back down at his desk. "Sit down." He waited until Neal complied. "I just talked to Sara."

Neal blinked a couple of times, fast, and nodded. "I take it she told you."

"Could you at least—" Peter sighed and leaned back in his seat, making himself stay calm. "Neal, there are easier ways to break up with someone than stealing a yacht."

"Wait a minute, I never said I—"

Peter cut him off with a glare, and they eyeballed each other. Peter could practically see Neal calculating the risk of spilling the beans.

Finally Neal pulled his chair forward and leaned his elbows on the desk. "Hypothetically?"

Peter rolled his eyes and nodded, and a ghost of a smile lit Neal's gaze. Peter felt an answering warmth in his gut, but he ignored it.

"Hypothetically, that might be true if the person in question weren't Sara Ellis," said Neal. He bit his lip. "Are we helping with her investigation?"

"No," said Peter, "and don't change the subject. Not only was it illegal, risky and bone-headed, it was also mean. You made a fool of her, Neal. That's not like you."

For a gratifying moment, Neal actually looked ashamed. Then he broke out his invisible halo, that stock-in-trade air of innocence, and said, "She—we both needed a wake-up call. Neither of us were who the other really wanted."

Peter hunched forward, folding his arms on the desk, mirroring him. "And you couldn't just tell her that?"

"I tried," said Neal. "Believe me."

"Yeah, okay." It was impossible to stay mad with Neal when he was sharing confidences. The hell of it was that Neal knew that and took shameless advantage of it. "Did it have to be a luxury yacht?"

Neal shrugged one shoulder. "Hypothetically, I might know a guy."

Peter groaned. "Tell me it's not Mozzie."

"It's not Mozzie," said Neal promptly. "He gets seasick. And my sources assure me that the missing property will be discovered within the week, in the Hamptons, free of fingerprints and any other incriminating evidence, and with a fully restocked wine bar."

Peter raised his eyebrows. "You can guarantee this?"

"Everything but the wine bar," said Neal. "My information's very reliable. And Sara will get her commission."

"Hmm," said Peter. "This still doesn't explain why you couldn't find a legal way to end your relationship."

Neal's gaze wavered. "You don't understand."

"So explain it to me."

"I've never—" Neal grimaced. "Before Kate, I never stayed in one place long enough that it was an issue. And then there was Kate."

"You've never broken up with anyone before?" Peter tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice, but Neal still winced.

"I may have engineered break-ups once or twice," he said carefully. "But no. Technically, I've never broken up with anyone."

"I'm sure Sara will be thrilled to know she's your first," said Peter dryly. "You still owe her one hell of an apology." Neal gave a tiny shrug of acknowledgement, and Peter shook his head. "You are the strangest guy I know. One contradiction after another."

Neal quirked his eyebrows. "You know, you're not exactly the Joe Average you like to make out."

Peter refused to rise to the bait. "Don't change the subject." He turned to his computer and typed in his password to clear the screensaver. "And get back to work. And Neal? Next time you have relationship issues, try using your words."

"Will do." Neal stood up smartly and headed for the door, where he hesitated. "Um, Peter?"

"Yeah?" Peter looked up.

Neal was leaning on the doorframe, studiedly casual. He looked like a page out of a menswear catalogue. "Invite me home for dinner tonight."

"Why?" asked Peter.

"Because I'm recently single and need comforting," said Neal, as if he were stating the obvious. Then he lowered his voice. "And because you said next time I should use my words."

Peter ignored the stutter in his pulse and sounded his customary warning. "Neal—"

Neal couldn't possibly think that after this outlandish affair with Sara Ellis and the yacht, Peter would be stupid enough to even consider giving in to the feelings that, okay, he wasn't very adept at concealing at the best of times. The existence of his feelings wasn't the point. In fact, if Neal were to learn anything at all from Peter, it should be that just because you wanted something, that didn't mean you had to act on that desire.

But Neal didn't look the least bit abashed. He gave Peter a small secretive devastating smile. "And because I hear Elizabeth makes a mean ragout."

Peter gaped. Before he could recover himself, Neal winked.

"Tell Elizabeth I'll bring wine," he said, and vanished back to his desk—

—leaving Peter speechless, staring into the middle distance. _Neither of us were who the other really wanted._ Neal wearing earphones at his desk. Sara getting her commission on the yacht. _A mean ragout._ There hadn't been time for Sara and Neal to talk between Peter's phone call with Sara and his conversation with Neal.

Peter scowled and called Sara. "I don't want to know anything about the case," he said, forestalling her greeting. "Just tell me this: does Sterling Bosch have the technology to clone a cellphone?"

The guilty pause was all he needed to hear.

"That's what I thought," he said. "Jesus, Sara! You gave Neal a copy of your phone? What in God's name were you thinking?"

"I—have no idea what you're talking about," said Sara.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sure he had all kinds of convincing reasons for why he needed to listen in to your calls about the case. I'll make sure he destroys the clone." Peter rested his head in his hands and sighed. "You and Neal really are over, right? That wasn't just part of the missing yacht performance?"

"We're over," said Sara. "He's all yours."

"God help me," said Peter automatically. "Sara, I'm begging you, don't make a career out of this. I caught Neal twice and I will catch you if I have to. And I would hate to have to put you behind bars." He glanced up and narrowed his eyes at Neal, who was at his desk, bent over the case file, wearing his earphones. "And Neal, if you're listening—if I ever catch you trying to con me again, I will make you rue the day you were born. I am not exaggerating."

Without looking up, Neal grinned, pulled the headphones from his ears and dropped them into his top desk drawer.

Peter disconnected the call and stared blindly at his desk blotter.

There had been many reasons Neal and Sara seemed like a good match, but first and foremost was the hope that Sara would be a good influence on Neal, give him a reason to stay on the straight and narrow. Peter had never dreamed it would be Neal who'd be the influence. In retrospect, given Sara's taste for danger and Neal's penchant for showing off, it was all too obvious. "I should have seen it coming," Peter groaned under his breath. "Oh God."

Everything had been so black and white a few years ago, when Neal first signed up for his parole arrangement with the Bureau, but the gray areas had spread and widened, month by month, until Peter wasn't sure where he stood anymore. He turned a blind eye to whatever side-project Mozzie had going on. He'd let Alex walk twice. He could rat Neal and Sara out to Sterling Bosch, but he already knew he wasn't going to. What's more, Neal knew it too or he wouldn't have let the ragout remark slip. And what did that say about Special Agent Peter Burke, FBI? Was he corrupted or just—more relaxed?

Almost everyone in law enforcement had working relationships with criminals, but these days Peter considered a couple of cons to be core members of his team. He counted on Neal and Mozzie, turned to them when he needed help the Bureau couldn't provide. He _liked_ them. And his line of what was acceptable had shifted as a result, there was no denying it.

One thing was clear: Peter couldn't entrust Neal to an outsider. If anyone was going to make Neal toe the line, it was going to be Peter and Elizabeth. And if they had to do that by relaxing Peter's adherence to the rules around fraternization, well, he knew El for one would be delighted to hear it.

He called her. "Honey? Neal's invited himself over for dinner tonight. He said he'll bring the wine. Yeah, and you're never going to believe what else—"


End file.
